Chapter 15
A knock on the door got Brand’s attention.
He was working on the playlist for the Fourth of July concert while his girl took a nap.
Who would that be?
He hadn’t ordered any food, although it was getting close to dinnertime so he should get onto that. He was determined that he was going to get her to eat more than a few bites.
Getting up, he opened the door.
Hmm. He should have guessed.
“Derek.” He nodded to the other man, who was standing there holding a large basket.
“Brand. Won’t keep you long. My girl and her friends heard that Jolie was under the weather and unable to attend any of the programs here. So, they put together a get-well-soon basket.” He handed it over.
The thing was huge.
“Tell them thanks. I’m sure Jolie will appreciate it.”
“Everything all right? Jolie feeling okay? Nurse Beverly said she came by earlier.”
“Yeah. She did. Jolie’s feeling better. Still coughing and having temperature spikes, though. Nurse Beverly wants her to keep resting and having lots of fluids.”
“I heard you put in an order to the store.”
“Is there anything that happens around here you don’t know about?” Brand asked.
“Not much.”
There was a noise from the bedroom. “Daddy?”
Brand studied Derek’s face as Jolie called out to him. Derek just smiled. “See you later. Just remember, if you need anything, I’m here.”
“Thanks.” Brand shut the door, then hurried into the bedroom to where Jolie was sitting up, waiting for him.
“What took so long?” she asked.
“I only took thirty seconds at the most,” he told her.
“I’m sure it was much, much longer. I was getting worried.”
“Sorry, baby.” He put the basket down on the bed and leaned in to kiss her forehead.
Fuck. He wished he could kiss her properly.
As soon as she was better.
“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he soothed. “I was talking to Derek.”
“He was here? What’s that?” She pointed to the basket.
“It’s something for you.”
She reached for it, but he lightly smacked her hands. “Uh-uh.”
“What? Why can’t I have it? It’s mine.”
“First, you need to use the toilet,” he told her.
“I don’t!”
He gave her a knowing look.
“Okay, maybe I do. But I can hold on.”
“Holding on isn’t good for you. Come along, baby.” He picked her up, settling her against his chest.
“But, Daddy!” She reached for the basket.
“Do you want me to put it away? I can bring it out later once you’ve remembered to listen to Daddy. Also, I think if you’re well enough to be naughty, then you’re well enough to spend some time in the corner.”
“What? Nooo, that’s just mean.”
He just waited.
“Sorry, Daddy. I will wait until after I use the toilet.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“It was really, really hard. That basket looks fun. Where did you get it?” She pestered him with questions as she used the toilet.
“It’s from Derek. Apparently, his girl and some of her friends heard you weren’t feeling well and put it together.”
She gaped at him as he drew her off the toilet and righted her clothing. After breakfast, he’d changed her into another onesie that he’d bought her. This one was bumblebee-themed too.
“They-they did that for me?” she asked.
He lifted her onto the counter so she faced him, then stepped between her legs.
“Why wouldn’t they do that, Bumblebee?” he asked in a soft voice.
“I don’t know. I don’t know them. They don’t… I mean, why would they do that?”
“Because they’re nice people? Who feel bad that you’re stuck in your room, sick, when it’s your holiday? Because you’re a good person who deserves for good things to happen?”
She stared at him in shock. As though she couldn’t understand what he was saying.
“Tell me you know you’re a good person who deserves good things to happen to her,” he pressed.
“Good things don’t happen to me, though. I mean, other than getting to tour with you and the others. I don’t… those sorts of things don’t happen to people like me.”
“What do you mean, people like you?”
She glanced away from him, and he didn’t like that one bit.
“Jolie?” he pressed.
“I’m tired. I want to go back to bed. I don’t feel well.”
“That’s eight.”
“What? Why?” That brought her eyes back to his.
“Because you just lied to me.” He cupped her face between his hands to prevent her from moving away again. “Tell me why you don’t deserve good things.”
“I don’t know! They just don’t happen to me, all right? I’m always doing the wrong thing and letting people down. Okay?”
“Not okay. I’ve never once seen you let anyone down. All I’ve seen is a person who works so hard she made herself ill.”
She bit her lip.
“Tell me,” he ordered.
“I don’t… I don’t deserve anything nice, though. Not when… not when I’m not a good person.”
“But you are.”
“I’m not! You don’t understand. It was my fault she died and I’m not a good person so good things shouldn’t happen to me.”
His heart stopped. What was she talking about? He suddenly became aware that they were having this talk in a bathroom. But if he tried to move her, she might clam up, and he had to know what she was talking about.
“What was your fault?” he whispered.
“My mom dying. I was being naughty. I wasn’t supposed to climb that tree without my dad watching me. I fell and broke my leg. My mom was rushing me to the hospital when she ran off the road. They think she hit a patch of ice. She… she died the next day.” A small sob escaped her, and his stomach dropped.
“Baby, no. How old were you?” he asked.
“Eight.”
Fuck. His poor girl. He drew her against him, rocking her back and forth as she sat on the counter.
“Who the fuck told you that it was your fault?” he demanded.
“My dad. He, uh, he didn’t cope that well with her death. He stopped going to work and started drinking. He’d tell me all the time how it was my fault she was gone. Then he’d start crying.”
“Like fuck it was your fault!” he snarled.
She leaned back, staring up at him in shock.
“That fucking bastard had no right to blame you! You were eight, for fuck’s sake.”
“But I?—”
“No buts. I don’t want to hear any buts. There are no buts. You were a child. Children make mistakes, they break rules. Your mom had a car accident that wasn’t her fault. She died. Not your fault either. And your father spiralling like that was not your fault. Where is he? Your old man, where is he? I’m going to teach him a lesson.”
“Um, buried in a cemetery.”
He blinked down at her.
“L-liver failure.”
“That’s why you blame yourself for things that aren’t your fault, isn’t it?” he said. Things were starting to make sense now.
“I don’t do that,” she said hastily.
“Baby, I’ve seen you do it,” he told her. “Not everything is your fault.”
“That’s what Addison tells me.” She let out a gasp. “Addie! Oh no! I’m the worst friend ever.”
She started coughing, and he picked her up, holding her against his chest so he could rub her back.
“Easy, baby. Calm down. You’re going to make your cough worse.” He patted her back as she gasped for breath.
“I forgot to text Addie! She’s going to be so worried about me,” she finally managed to say.
Brand carried her out to the living area and set her on the sofa. Then he filled up her sippy cup with water and got her phone for her.
“There’s my phone!” she cried as she reached for it.
He held out her sippy cup. “Drink first. Then you can have your phone. And, uh, I have something to tell you before you look at your phone.”
She gave him a suspicious look.
“I already spoke to your friend. She called, I answered, and I reassured her that you were all right and that I was taking care of you.”
What? Huh? How could… holy crap!
“Brand!”
He narrowed his eyes. At her tone or at her calling him by his name, she wasn’t sure.
“You can’t answer my phone! That’s a huge breach of privacy.”
“I didn’t want you to wake up, so I picked it up. Then I thought I better answer it. I was just going to take a message.”
“But you didn’t! You talked to my friend and then… did you hide my phone?”
He simply shrugged. “I was taking care of you. I didn’t want you to get stressed. I still don’t. I think we should put it away again.”
“Nuh-uh. Nope.” She stuck the phone down the front of her onesie.
Amusement filled his face. “You think that will deter me?”
She knew that it wouldn’t, but she still needed to make one thing clear. “I know that you were trying to look after me, but that was taking things too far.”
He frowned, looking slightly confused. Brand wasn’t used to people arguing with him. Everyone around him tended to do whatever he wanted. And he had been doing what he thought was best.
“What if Addie needed me? What if she was in trouble? Or one of the guys. I know you’re trying to protect me, but you can’t do that again. All right?”
He eyed her. “Fine. Unless it’s detrimental to your health or wellbeing, then I won’t answer your phone or take it from you.”
Yeah. She wasn’t sure if she’d won that argument or not.
Jolie took another sip of water as she turned her phone on. She tried to call Addie. It went to voicemail, so she left her a message. Then she answered a few texts she’d received, reassuring her band mates she was okay.
Feeling exhausted, she slumped back against the sofa. Brand lifted her, then sat back down with her on his lap.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked in a low voice.
“No.” She pressed her face against his chest. “I know you were doing what you thought was best. And that we’re both gonna make mistakes. That’s life. Mistakes happen. It’s what you learn from them that matters.”
“I’m always going to be an overprotective, possessive bastard. I don't think you can change that about me.”
She leaned back to look up at him. “I know. I don’t want to change you. But you know I’ve been looking after myself a long time.”
“Not very well,” he muttered.
“Hey!” She whacked her hand against his chest. “That’s not very nice.”
“But it’s true. I just want to look after you.”
“I know. I’m not… I’m not used to that. The guys and Addie look out for me. But you’re on a whole other level.”
“When I do something, I do it well.”
She smiled up at him. “You do. Just remember that I can make some decisions for myself.”
Brand sighed. “It’s difficult, but I’ll try. As long as you remember that not everything is your fault. Your mother’s death certainly wasn’t.”
“I’ll try,” she told him. “And some things are my fault. Like freaking out the other night.”
“You’ve burned yourself out working too hard. It’s no wonder you were panicking and not yourself.”
“The idea of picking up my guitar made me feel ill,” she admitted. “I was shaking and finding it hard to breathe. It felt like I was falling apart. My heart was racing. It was awful.”
“Fuck, baby. What can we do? Do you need to talk to someone? Slow down?” he asked.
“I was hoping that taking a break would help. That I might be able to slip into Little headspace and just relax. Instead, I’ve been ill this whole time. I don’t know.”
“Whatever you need, we’ll get you, understand?” He slid her around so her legs straddled his and she faced him. “Do not worry, we’ll find a way that you can still perform and not feel ill or panicky.”
“But what if I go on tour and I can’t do it? What if I freak out again?”
“We’ll handle that when it happens. Did you bring your guitar with you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Well, how would you feel about singing with me when we get back on tour? Just a couple of songs. No guitar, no expectations.”
“Really? Sing with you?” Wonder filled her. She’d dreamed about doing that.
“Yes, baby. It would be my privilege.”
Silly Daddy. Didn’t he know the privilege was entirely hers?